I’m afraid I’d fail..
But I work.
I’m afraid I'd end up poor..
Yet I work.
I’m afraid that my work would not pay..
I’m afraid that my sorrows would not end..
Yet I work.
I’m afraid that my dreams would not live..
So I write.
I’m afraid they won’t read, I’m afraid they would judge, I’m afraid I’d cry..
Yet I write and I write.
Let me fail, let them judge, let the tears end up dry..
But I’d work, I’d write and I’d write until I die.
dstrivingauthor cross-posted this post in The Ink Well 4 years ago
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I ll make sure next time. Sorry about this.
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To support your work, I also upvoted your post!
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